


Sick Leave

by StarTravel



Series: Defiance Through Tenderness [4]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Part of the soon to be named Defiant verse, stubborn men being stubborn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 07:53:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16698424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: When illness strikes the Defiant, Julian’s and Garak’s changing relationship takes another step forward when one of them stubbornly denies anything’s wrong.





	Sick Leave

**Author's Note:**

> A work set in the same universe as Words Unspoken are Seldom Heard and Bed Warmer: Aka the AU where Garak decides to be Julian’s roommate on the Defiant and things start to unthaw.

Julian stumbles to his feet, brushing the sleeve of his silk pajamas over his face in search of _something_ pleasant. Julian’s felt off for the past few days, body and even his mind sluggish, every room at once too cold and too hot at the same time. But today is worse, all of his bones aching and his muscles feeling like they’re thousands of bruises lying beneath his skin. Julian sniffles a little as he tries to catch his bearings, idly reminding himself to ask Miles about fixing the temperature on board. He rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet unsteadily, shivering a little as he tries to take a few steps forward.

 Instead Julian’s knees buckle, sliding his right arm out and grasping at the air as though it can catch him. Julian doesn’t fall though, cool grey hands holding him up by the shoulders. “Where do you think you’re going?”

 “To work,” Julian rasps out, each word making a stabbing sensation down the line of his throat. His voice is thin and weak, a sharp contrast to his usual tone. Julian tries to slide past Garak, but he predicts his every move, shifting to hold Julian in place. Julian presses his palms flat against Garak’s chest, pushing at him with as much strength as he can muster at the moment. Garak doesn’t even move an inch, one eye ridge raising as he gives Julian a quick once over.

 “I don’t think so, Julian.” Garak presses down on his shoulders gently, hands curling around his shoulders. Julian lets out a huff that soon turns into a harsh cough, pressing his mouth against the sleeves of his pajamas. He can feel his chest start to shake, a low ache building there. Before he knows it, Julian finds himself sitting back on the edge of their bed, Garak running a hand through his hair gently and patting his back until the cough subsides. The air quality on the Defiant really doesn’t measure up at all to DS9. Garak’s voice is playful, but his gaze is firm as he keeps looming over Julian. “There are other doctors on board, you know.”

 “I’m the chief medical officer”. Julian rolls his eyes as he tries to slide to his feet, ignoring the sudden chill that runs through him as he tries to step around Garak. Normally he’s at least faster than the other man, but today Garak slides in front of him again, gaze narrowing when Julian lets out a low rasp of affront. Julian understands why Garak might want to spend more time together - at some point they need to discuss whatever _this_ is between them and if it lasts past the Defiant - but really. Julian presses his body up against Garak’s, leaning in a bit to ground himself. He really does feel clumsy this morning. Hopefully that’ll pass by the time he arrives at the sickbay. “Besides, as much as I enjoy you’re riveting company, I need to get to the sickbay-”

 “For an evaluation?” Garak’s voice is dry, but there’s a surprising amount of hope in his gaze as he finally takes a step back. Julian swallows tightly, ignoring how much it hurts as he takes a few steps forward. It’s nothing a good cup of tea can’t fix.

 Julian can feel Garak’s eyes boring into him as he makes it halfway to their dresser, trying and failing to hide the growing shake of his shoulders or the pin pricks climbing down his spine. So he slept on his back wrong, he’s sure that will fade away once he’s attention’s on his patients. He turns on his heel to shoot Garak a watery glare as he forces another cough to slide back down his throat. “I don’t get sick.”

 “And yet, here we are.” Garak scoffs as he suddenly grabs Julian’s arm again, this time using more strength to tug him back toward the bed. Julian goes easily, practically falling onto Garak from the suddenness of his movements. Garak lowers him to the bed gently this time, palms lingering on his shoulders for a few seconds before he pulls away. Julian pretends he doesn’t miss the contact as Garak grabs his spare tricorder from his desk. “Humor me, Julian.”

 “I think I’ve been humoring you for long enough, Elim,” Julian snaps as he furrows his brow, crossing his arms against his chest as he watches Garak saunter towards him, tricorder held out in an imitation of how Julian wields in the lab. Despite his words, Julian makes no move to get up from where he’s perched on the edge of the bed. If seeing that he’s fine will make Garak let him go to work, then Julian will let Garak play doctor with him to his heart’s content.

 “You can barely walk,” Garak tells him flatly, shaking his head and looking down at Julian in an almost chiding way, lips pursed as he reaches the tricorder out toward his chest. Julian just resists the urge to roll his eyes, because everyone has clumsy days. Miles dropped three different tools in under an hour just last week. This is no different. Garak’s expression implies he doesn’t agree with Julian’s medical opinion, gaze growing dark as he runs the tricorder over his forehead gently with a hint of a sigh. “You’re running a fever and several of your other vital signs are off.”

 “I can control those, so give me a few minutes and I should be fine.” Julian ignores the part about a fever, because how would Garak even know what the base temperature for a human was? The rest of his vital signs - Julian admits that does surprise him a bit, but it’s an easy fix if nothing else. He closes his eyes and tries to focus lowering his respiration rate until his voice loses the rasping, laborious quality it’s taken on this morning. Nothing shifts, Julian’s throat somehow growing even drier as the minutes tick by.

 “Doctor, you don’t look like you’re getting any better.” Garak presses the tricorder back against his forehead, the pressure a bit harder this time. When Julian finally opens his eyes, he finds himself staring into frustrated blue eyes.

 “Apparently I’m too tired to concentrate,” Julian admits as his gaze drops to his hands, pulling at the frayed edges of his pajamas. The bright blue stripes in between the sapphire ones the same shade as Garak’s eyes. Julian would rather look at the color there and not at Garak’s almost definitely smug face. Garak brings his hand down to rest on Julian’s cheek, the scale on his wrist pressing against the edge of his jaw until Julian glances up at him tentatively.

 “Yes, people do tend to be exhausted when they’re ill.” Garak presses in a low voice, eye ridges furrowed as his touch becomes feather light. Julian sucks in a breath, positive that’s the real reason the flush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. Hell, maybe the clumsiness as well. Garak thinks he’s sick when he’s just in - well. When he’s just been caught off-guard.

 “I need to get dressed,” Julian mutters in a low voice as he meets Garak’s gaze, shoulders slumping a bit as Garak starts running his other hand through his hair in a careful pattern. Julian feels his eyelids growing heavier with each passing touch, the heavy blankets on their bed suddenly far more inviting than they were a few seconds ago.

 “You need to sleep and drink tea and read whatever books I bring you.” Garak’s hands pull away from him then, and Julian lets out a soft whining sound at the loss of contact. Garak lets out a rich laugh as he glances back at him in a way that’s almost fond from their simplified replicator, a cup of tea suddenly in view. Julian doesn’t think it’s good for his argument that he can’t smell it at all even though Garak’s only a few feet away.

 Julian inches back on the bed, reaching behind him to push a few of the pillows together to create a cushion for him to sink into as he waits for Garak. Garak smiles in a way that could mean he’s pleased or amused at Julian’s attempts at faking capitulation. Either way, it bodes well for Julian. He pouts a bit as he reaches his hand out to take the cup of tea, relishing in the warmth against his skin. “Give me back _All Quiet on The Western Front_ then _.”_

“I’m not going to let you make yourself heartsick too.” Garak tuts at him, gaze admonishing as he shakes his head. Julian rolls his eyes, ignoring the hint of a headache that gives him even as it makes him want to wince. He’s not going to give Garak the satisfaction or the fuel. Garak leans over, grabbing a Padd from under the bed. “Here, I’ll be back in a few hours.”

 Julian glances down at them, raising an eyebrow when he sees _Emma_ flash across the top of the Padd. He wouldn’t have guessed Garak cared for Jane Austen. He’ll have to ask him about it later - after work. Julian watches Garak stride towards the door, cringing at the way his voice wavers when he tries to yell after Garak. “And I won’t be when you get here.”

 As far as comebacks go, it’s not one of his best.

* * *

 Garak comes back to their quarters around lunch, carrying a seafoam green tray that clashes with the teal of the science uniforms. A pity given that Julian’s wearing half of his, boots and jacket bunched up on the floor by the foot of their bed, turtleneck looking faintly ridiculous half covered in a swath of blankets. If possible, Julian looks even more pathetic than this morning, eyes red and watery and a light sheen of sweat spreading across his skin even as he shivers. Still, Garak had to gloat a _little._ “I thought you said you wouldn’t be here.”

 “Our head nurse decided that I was unfit for duty and then had our commanding officer overrule my rights as CMO.” Julian whines in a low voice as he lies back against their pillows, too thin and threadbare to truly have the dramatic effect Julian clearly wants. Julian crosses his arms, frown growing tighter as he glances at the tray between Garak’s hands suspiciously. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

 “Jadzia may have mentioned it on the bridge.” In fact, Jadzia came onto the bridge grumbling about stubborn doctors who _clearly_ have Tredarrian Flu and need to be quarantined before it became Tredarrian blood sickness. Garak could guess which doctor she meant. Garak simply smiles at Julian though, carefully sitting down so he can rest the tray between them without spilling either the tea or the thick broth out onto Julian. He hardly needs to be burned along with looking like the walking dead.

 “Well, tell her that she’s being ridiculous so I can go back to work.” Julian lets out a low groan that quickly devolves into a cough that has more of a hacking quality than this morning, his chest practically folding in half at from the sheer force of it. Garak leans over and presses his hands against Julian's hips, doing his best to keep Julian still until the coughs lessen into something more meanageable.

 “We both know I’m not going to do that, Julian.” Garak lifts one of the cups of tea up to him, raising an eye ridge when Julian’s hands shake as he tries to hold the blue mug between them. Garak lets out a low exhale, carefully pulling the cup back and lifting it up to Julian’s lips.

 Julian stares at the cup for a moment, lips purposefully pressed into a thin line as Garak presses the cool porcelain against his lips. Julian closes his eyes for a few moments, a hint of defeat in his gaze when he opens them and his mouth again. Julian takes a few careful sips until Garak takes the tea back, placing the cup back onto the tray with a clink that makes Julian wince. Then Julian, stubborn thing that he is, leans forward as though to get up. “Elim-”

 “You can’t help your patients if you work yourself in an early grave.” Garak presses a hand against his chest, touch light but apparently enough to send Julian collapsing back against the pillows. Garak narrows his eyes at that, giving Julian a careful once over as he tries to evaluate his condition. The head Nurse Tirani assured him that Julian merely needed rest and fluids, his fever bad but not bad enough to keep him in the sickbay. Garak’s not sure she was right, with how weak the dear doctor’s been rendered.

 “I’m not sick. I don’t get sick.” Julian huffs in a voice that sounds like it’s been paved with gravel, one slender hand reaching out to grasp Garak’s shoulder tightly. Julian makes an expression that borders on sulking, a weak cough escaping his lips as though just to punish him for lying. Garak’s glad his body’s never felt the need to take such obvious shows of disapproval.  

 “What, did they genetically engineer the possibility out of you?” Garak asks as he sits down on the edge of the bed, carefully lifting the bowl of soup up near Julian’s lips. This time Julian simply swallows the spoonful, gaze only a little irritated as he swallows the broth down. It’s a start.

 “Of course not.” Julian rolls his eyes and then immediately bites his lips, hands flicking up grip the sides of his head. Julian takes a few measured breaths before bringing his hands to rest against the top of the blankets, gaze somehow at once arrogant and sheepish. Only Julian could manage both in one look. “But they _did_ give me a heightened immune system that makes it exceedingly difficult for me to become ill unless under duress.”

 Garak raises an eye ridge at the defensive tone to Julian’s voice and the triumphant edge his smile takes on as he reaches his right hand out towards Garak, as though he expects him to help him out of bed. Julian must be under even more duress than he thought. “You mean the kind of duress caused by believing we only have 32.7% of a chance of winning this godforsaken war? If only eating about half of any of your meals and sleeping 2, maybe 3 hours a night when you can take extra shifts-”

 “I don’t need as much sleep or food as the rest of you.” Julian’s tone insistent and bordering on the ridiculous, leaning forward as though he means to plunge himself  to the ground. Julian lets out another few rasping coughs, bending over so his head ends up pressed against Garak’s chest, limbs slack where they lean on Garak’s thankfully more solid body.

 “Of course, my dear, you’re meant to be better.” Garak grins as he says this, sharp and wide as he gives the other man a knowing look.

 Julian shudders against him, burying his face into the soft velvet of Garak’s vest for a few minutes and breathing deeply. Garak worries about how far gone he is, that he doesn’t even care that Julian’s likely soaking his jacket. Julian pulls back after a moment, voice barely more than a whisper. “Not better. Just different.”

 “Well, I fear it turns out you’re not so different from your fellow humans after all.” Garak shrugs as he picks the tea up again, holding it to Julian’s lips until the other man starts drinking in earnest. This time Garak doesn’t pull the cup back until Julian’s finished half the cup, lips slightly wet as Garak places the mug back on the tray. Julian gives him a weak smile that’s far too hopeful for his own good.

 “I don’t have _time_ to be sick. There are people out there dying.” Julian’s voice is quiet but steady as he speaks, a steel that Garak normally admires running through his words as he tries to push himself up more, even as his arms shake from the effort. Normally the doctor’s determination is one of his strengths. Now it’s become a weakness that, if left unchallenged, could end up becoming dangerous.

 “Yes, and they need you to recover so you can help them without making them worse.” Garak’s voice is firm this time, his gaze searing as he meets Julian’s on the other side of the bed. He understands how the other man feels; they don’t talk about it beyond sarcastic barbs, but at the end of the day there are things literally _only_ Julian and his superhuman intelligence can do. It’s surely killing the doctor he’s been taken down by something as simple as the flu. Garak takes Julian’s hand between his own, running his fingers across the smooth skin and rough calluses there. “My dear, would you let me or one of your nurses work in this condition?”

 “I …” Julian trails off as he suddenly sinks back into the pillows, entire body going limp as the fight goes out of his eyes. Julian takes a few shaky breaths that quickly dissolve into coughs. When he’s done, Julian gives him a rueful grin, shaking his head as much as he can while still lying flat on his back. “Fine, I might be a _little_ sick.”

 “How brave of you to admit,” Garak drawls as he raises an eye ridge, carefully picking up the tray to set it on top of one of the boxes that serve as makeshifts tables and drawers.  He’s told Dax and the others to call him if he’s needed. Capitulation or not, Garak doesn’t trust Julian not to find his way back to the sickbay one way or the other and he’d prefer to avoid both.

 “Did you like _Emma_?” Julian asks in a croaking voice, earning a sharp look from Garak as he slides his hand to his lap. Garak enthusiastically compares Cardassian and Georgian English social conventions until Julian closes his eyes, breaths coming out more even as sleep finally overcomes him.

 Garak gives him a soft smile, pulling the blankets up to Julian’s chin before sitting back on their chair. He doesn’t know how long he spends simply watching Julian sleep, even breaths the only comfort left for him on this ship until his doctor wakes up.


End file.
